


Time away

by alexxir



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Honeymoon, Married Couple, Post-Golden Deer Route (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), Sexual Content, these two are Big Dorks and are totally smitten with each other it's fantastic, wyvern bonding hours
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-25
Updated: 2020-04-25
Packaged: 2021-03-01 21:01:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,435
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23833540
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alexxir/pseuds/alexxir
Summary: Claude had effortlessly weaved together their wants into a plan for a couple’s retreat - an escape from what would surely be avery loudandvery busyweek of wedding celebrations.Despite her skepticism, she was glad she put her faith in him. “It’s beautiful.”-x-x-x-Claude and Byleth spend their honeymoon in a secluded Almyran spring.
Relationships: My Unit | Byleth/Claude von Riegan
Comments: 6
Kudos: 110
Collections: The Golden Gifts - Claudeleth Fic/Art Exchange





	Time away

**Author's Note:**

> EDIT: I originally chose not to slap an E rating on this baby but I have been informed that I Definitely Should Have. 
> 
> Mostly fluff with explicit at the end. Skip if that ain't your thing. 
> 
> Fic written for [Luzbel](https://twitter.com/sinnerbel) for the #GoldenGifts Claudeleth exchange!

"How much longer?" 

"Just a little further," he shouts over the wind. "See those mountains?" 

He points to a shadow in the distance. Byleth squints to make it out.

“Come, Nagi!” he yells, and the wyvern exhales sharply, sensing Claude’s eagerness. In the altitude of the sky, the increase of speed has their hair whipping around their faces, and Byleth leans in close to hug at Claude’s waist tighter lest she make an unseemly dismount.

It’s not long before they’re descending down to the earth. The excitement from their journey has Claude almost vibrating in Byleth’s arms. She’s glad at least _one_ of them enjoys the flight. She’s just trying not to puke.

In a grand flurry of wings, Nagi lands gracefully on the desert soil. Being grounded again has Byleth a little less nauseous.

“You’re the best, Nagi,” Claude croons, reaching forward to stroke the side of her neck. The wyvern preens under his touch, and lowers herself down so that her passengers can slip right off.

“How was that -?” Claude whips around to face Byleth, and his eyes widen. “Huh. You look like you’ve seen better days.”

“Don’t like flying.” Byleth states simply, wiping sweat from her forehead with the back of her hand. Claude pats her shoulder sympathetically.

“Wouldn’t say that too loud. Nagi might hear you.”

As if on cue, the wyvern snorts loudly, and shuffles to kick up sand in the air. They both sneeze at the intrusion on their sinuses.

“Alright ol darl,” Claude coughs, reaching his other hand to pat Nagi’s rump, “let’s get you both settled in.”

-x-x-x-

At first, Byleth was skeptical. Claude described the springs as downright _magical_ \- a little heaven in the mountains, tucked away from the harsher arid Almyran climate, nestled in between two cliffs. The water had provided unexpected life to the area, and lush desert ferns and yuccas thrived in its presence. It sounded too good to be true. 

The two had spent quite some time debating over the perfect honeymoon. Byleth wanted some simplicity and fresh air. Claude wanted something romantic and nostalgic. Both wanted some precious needed time away from civilisation. 

Claude had effortlessly weaved together their wants into a plan for a couple’s retreat - an escape from what would surely be a _very loud_ and _very busy_ week of wedding celebrations. It would be a pleasant callback to Byleth’s time as a mercenary, camping on the roads out among the wilderness, and Claude could visit the place he’s dreamed about ever since he was a kid.

Despite her skepticism, she was glad she put her faith in him. “It’s beautiful.”

“Isn’t it just?” He carries over an obscenely large canvas bundle and plonks it at their feet. “Want to set up now, or…?”

The question goes unanswered. Byleth’s racing ahead.

-x-x-x-

“There’s so much potential here,” Claude says, voice dripping with wonder. He points to a spiky little shrub on his left. “ _Khar çalısı_ … hrm.” He pauses, trying to think of the right translation. “Salt bush. You can burn it and use the ash for a really gritty soap. Oh!” he exclaims, pushing in further into the thick foliage. “Sabi, growing this close to a spring?” He turns to Byleth with eyes as wide as saucers. “This dear tree is a botanist’s delight. Beautiful and deadly. Did you know we use the sap to craft arrowhead poisons for our archers?”

Claude’s excitement is infectious. She can’t help but smile as he bends down and retrieves some utensils from his hip bag, clearly intending to salvage what he can. She’s always enjoyed the simpler pleasures from tending to plants, but she knows Claude’s interests have always lied in their more... _unusual_ uses, to say the least. 

Her fingers weave through his thick locks. “I see you had an ulterior motive for coming here.”

He startles. “Byleth, please, you wound my pride.” He waves his free hand in the air, but otherwise keeps his gaze focused on the plant. “I’m _opportunistic_.”

She huffs playfully, and bends down to give him a kiss on his head. “I’ll leave you to it, then.”

-x-x-x-

Byleth’s halfway through a very botched assembly of their tent when Claude returns, hip sash chock full of shrubbery. He plonks it down with the rest of the piled gear and approaches Byleth carefully.

“You, uh, need a hand, friend?”

“No,” she spits through gritted teeth. “I’ve got this.”

Claude steps up to her side. He points at the bamboo lattice, the neglected pile of twine. “Not to undermine your hard work, Byleth, but this is a yurt, not a regular Fodlan tent.” He places a gentle hand over her own. “Let me help you."

She almost resists out of pure spite. When she turns to face him though, her resolution melts away. He’s sporting that soul-searching gaze that she’s helpless to resist.

“Fine.”

The edges of his lips quirk up. “Just follow my lead. You’ll be an expert in no time.”

The sun settles into the soft, hazy glow of dusk by the time they’ve assembled the frame and canvas walls. They split up to cover more ground - Claude’s assigned rug-laying duties for the inside of the tent while Byleth absconds to start a campfire. 

Claude’s smoothing out the final touches when his ears catch distant swearing. Curious, he trots outside to see Byleth engaged in a staring match with none other than Nagi.

“Please, Nagi,” she says, hands firmly placed on her hips. “We can’t do this without you.”

The wyvern snorts, billowing smoke in Byleth’s face. Her stoic composure is slipping by the second.

“Look,” she whispers angrily, “I’m sorry that I almost threw up on your back. But I need your help.”

It’s at this point Claude gives himself away by chuckling. Her head whips to face him, mouth drawn tight and brow furrowed.

“Nagi doesn’t do stuff for free.”

His answer startles Byleth, who tilts her head to one side. “What do you mean?”

He slides up to give Nagi the gentlest of pats on her neck. The wyvern preens under his touch. “Equivalent exchange. If you want Nagi to light the fire,” he says, calmingly taking Byleth’s shock at being so plainly read in stride, “then you’ve got to make it worth her while.”

Byleth turns to face Nagi, and then back to Claude. “What… what does she like?”

“Oh, lots of things. Good scratches, bones to chew on, tasty fish- wait, where are you going?”

She's already bee-lining for the spring waters. She doesn’t answer him, but he’s worked it out, and scurries to catch up with her. “Did we even bring fishing gear-”

“No need,” she says ominously.

Before Claude can even process her words, she lines up with the shore, takes a deep breath, and dives in head first.

A wall of water splashes the front of Claude’s clothing. He reels back with a laugh. 

“Cold!” he protests, but Byleth is well and truly submerged.

He pats himself down, shivering a little at the damp cloth clinging to his skin. Peering down into the crystal clear depths, he watches as she slithers through the water as gracefully as a sea animal at home in her element. Though the spring is not quite lake sized, it has a flourishing ecosystem of its own, and sure enough, it doesn’t take long for Byleth to capture her prey. 

She emerges from the spring, shaking her head like a wet dog. Clutched in her hands, a medium-size trout thrashes about. Claude doesn’t know whether to be bemused or impressed.

“Equivalent exchange,” she murmurs at him, and saunters off to Nagi, leaving a wet trail in the sand in her wake.

-x-x-x-

The smell of cinnamon wafts from the stone pot, suspended over flames. Claude is tending to the contents with a ladle. The sweltering heat has him sweating, and he raises an elbow to his forehead to wipe off the sweat gathered there.

Feeling a need for respite, he lowers down the pot handle with a gloved grip and turns around to face away from the fire. The cool night breeze is a welcome relief. 

His eyes wander over to Byleth. Stretched out on a woven rug, her gaze flickers lazily back and forth as she absorbs the contents of a book. He can’t help but smile despite himself. After her stunt earlier, her clothes were drenched and completely useless. She had disrobed without much fuss, stripping down to only her smallclothes. A very chivalrous and _definitely not_ flushed Claude had insisted that she at _least_ borrow his tunic, if only to protect her skin from the little sun rays left.

The tunic hung limply from her shoulders and bunched up around her hips. 

“Almost done?”

Her words snap him from his reverie. He nods. “Could you fetch the bowls?”

“Sure.”

Their dinner is a simple affair. While Claude doesn’t pride himself on having skills in the kitchen, he’d insisted that he’d cook a favourite dish of his to share. The stew is decent, all fragrant and warm, and he considers it a fine accomplishment when Byleth licks her dish clean.

She sits the bowl aside and folds her legs underneath her. Claude’s barely placed his bowl down before her head tips to lean against his shoulder.

“Hello there,” he says with a wide smile. She responds by nuzzling in closer.

They sit in silence for some time. The crackles and _pop_ s of fire and Nagi’s faint snoring fill the air with a homely, relaxing ambience.

“I think Nagi’s warming up to you,” he says, finally, wistfully.

“Good. She should be.”

“Careful. She can sense confidence.”

“Thought you both liked that.”

He chuckles. “We do.”

It’s then he angles his head to glance down at her. “Must run in the family.”

It takes a second for Byleth to catch on, but when she does, her eyes light up in that precious way of hers, shining with emotion. He notices her not-so-subtly twirl the band around her ringfinger.

He leans in down to kiss her.

-x-x-x-

“It’s, _hah_ , hot.”

His stomach feels like the campfire flames themselves when Byleth licks a stripe down his neck. He grips onto her thighs more insistently. 

“Mmm,” she mumbles into his skin. With little fanfare, she reaches to lift his tunic up and over her frame. Claude’s next comments are lodged in his throat. A chest to a face is a good excuse to be breathless, he thinks.

His hands knead the inside of her thighs. She peppers him with kisses, trailing a path to his parted lips and both groaning as they savour each other’s taste. 

There’s a thrill in the air that leaves them quivering. Out here, they’re free of “urgent royal messages”, free of conflicting schedules and insistent staff. Their eagerness builds and bubbles over into roaming touches, quickened breaths, the way in which Byleth starts to grind herself down upon Claude’s trousers to chase friction she’s sorely missed. They’re not behind locked doors and abandoned supply closets this time. They’re blessedly free.

“I want this off,” Byleth demands, tugging at the cloth. He huffs a laugh.

“Would you be so kind as to give me room,” he says, canting his hips up to prove a point. Her narrowed glare is betrayed by her bitten lip. She hoists herself up to allow him just enough room to wriggle out of his pants and smallclothes. 

“Thank you, _bibi_ ,” Claude teases, and pulls her back down on top of him.

Lit by the fire, painted in a serene glow, their bodies move as one. Byleth is panting and soaked by the time she tosses aside her underwear like they’ve personally offended her. Claude may have been concerned at the trend of clothing mishaps today had she not begun grinding down on his length, effectively distracting him. 

He wraps his arms around her. She croons, laying her forehead against his shoulder. Tenderness amongst the heat. When she angles him inside, it’s with a sharp intake of breath, a shudder and a sigh, and he pulls her in tight like he never wants to let her go again.

One hand against the rug, holding them up, the other tracing patterns on her arousal, she rides him at a slow and steady pace. Sweat from the fire and friction slides down her back, doing little to alleviate the different kind of heat pooling in her stomach. 

“ _Ahh_ … just like that,” Claude praises. He bends forward to help their balance, to run calloused fingers lightly down her spine. His hips subconsciously drive up in little thrust to chase her rhythm.

Byleth suckles at the flesh against his neck, nosing up and up to reach at his ear. Her whispers are breathless and persistent - “I love this. I love you.” 

A sentimentality explodes in his chest, heart beating wildly against his ribcage. He growls, gripping Byleth for dear life, and she yelps as he shifts forward to press her down into the soft fibres of the rug. Muscled thighs anchor up against his chest and ankles hang off his shoulders as he drills into Byleth with a wild need.

She flexes her toes, delighted at the change of pace. Her mouth falls open. Her free hand reaches up to caress the side of his sweat-stained cheek, fond and affectionate, and Claude shivers at his approaching climax.

“ _Byleth_ , By, By,” he chants. Their breaths catch. Claude nudges aside Byleth’s fingers to rub her instead. The result is instantaneous - she arches up with a wordless cry, tightens around him. 

The heat is overwhelming. Her inner walls are milking him. The pressure in his groin overflows and with a strangled cry he juts forth, hilts down to the very base, and spills within her.

She mewls. A wandering hand slides up to his scalp and massages his hair, patiently waiting for the haze of orgasm to release him back to their shared reality.

Their eyes lock. A goofy smile breaks out across Claude’s face.

“I love you too.”

-x-x-x-

The bucket of water sloshes under his grip. He’s hauling it back to the campfire, ready to douse the flames for the night. As he approaches their camp, he catches a very contended Byleth hunched beside the sleeping Nagi.

It’s faint, but he can make out her words.

“Good girl,” she whispers, patting the side of her scaled neck. “Thank you for helping us today. You did such a good job.”

He can’t help the swell of his heart, the small and genuine quirk of his lips. It seems like they’ll get along just fine.

  
  
  



End file.
